“He lied to me, Aunt Catherine,” Teresa said, wiping the tears from her face.
This was too much for Lady Swinborne. Her voice rose again, despite her attempt to control it. “You kissed him!”
“He lied. He told me he took care of the house.”
“I can assure you it would not have been any better had he been the caretaker of the house.“ Lady Swinborne paused for a moment to regain control over her emotions. She then continued in what she evidently thought was a reasonable tone, “It is your extreme good fortune that he turned out to be the marquis and not the steward. No, you could not have done any better for yourself than to marry the Marquis of Merrick. You may consider yourself very lucky.”
“But he does not want to marry me,” Teresa said. By the expression on her aunt’s face, she could immediately see that this statement did nothing to help her case. She tried another tack. “Aunt Catherine, I do not love him, and he does not love me.”
“Love! What does love have to say to any of this?” Lady Swinborne exploded again.
“I promised Papa I would not marry without love,” Teresa said quietly, remembering the conversation she had had with her father just before leaving. He had been in his bed, too weak to get up after his heart had failed him for the second time within three months. He had held her hand and implored her to do as he had done and marry someone who truly made her happy. Someone she loved and who loved and cherished her in return.
“Well, a bigger fool there never was than your papa,” Lady Swinborne exclaimed. “Did he make you promise such nonsense?”
Teresa nodded, and held back a new wave of tears as thoughts of her beloved father flooded through her mind.
Lady Swinborne frowned. “Well, let me tell you, Teresa, that most people of our class do not marry for love. Do you think that I loved Swinborne when I married him? I did not. But I grew to love him.
“The past five years, since he died, has been a very difficult time for me. We had grown very close.“ Lady Swinborne blinked rapidly before turning her back to her niece. “Your father was a besotted fool when he married your mother and settled in Madrid, and I am sure that it brought him nothing but heartache. But I shall say no more on that head.“ She pursed her lips together, as if she were literally swallowing her words. “Meanwhile, I am sure that in this past half hour Lady Jersey has been busy telling everyone and anyone about this fiasco.”
Teresa’s eyes went wide at this thought. She truly was ruined.
Seeing her stricken expression, her aunt’s stern face softened for a moment. “I am glad this has finally gotten through to you. I am sorry for it, my dear, but you no longer have a choice. You will marry Lord Merrick and you will thank him most kindly for doing what is right.”
Teresa flinched at the harsh reality in her aunt’s words, turning to look longingly out of the window. But there was no escape—not from this.
“I am sure that Lord Merrick will come this evening to formalize the arrangements. Until he does, I suggest that you think on what has occurred and be grateful that Merrick is a man of honor.”
Teresa did not reply, but rested her head against the window-frame. She heard an exasperated sigh and then the click of the door as Aunt Catherine left her to her own thoughts.
She wondered briefly what her aunt had meant about her father being filled with heartache. She knew that he loved her mother beyond anything, though she was rather unsure whether this love was reciprocated. In her drawing room, Doña Isabella had been equally generous with her attention and favors to all the men around her. Surely, she loved her husband the most and just did not show it in public?
Now was not the time to think about her parents. She had more pressing concerns, like her own ruined reputation. She was faced with the awful alternatives of either being married to a man who did not love her or being scorned by society and never be married at all.
Yet, somehow, she felt nothing. Nothing but an overwhelming sadness at the unfairness of life.
Chapter Six
Ah, Mrs. MacPherson, I am glad you are here. I was just about to call you. I am going out this evening.” Richard handed his housekeeper his coat. “If you wouldn’t mind…?”
She took the coat and helped him into it. “Aye, m’lord?”
“I, ah, I am going to propose to Miss Seton,” he continued, a little embarrassed.
“My felicitations,” she said as he turned back around to face her.
Richard wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard relief in her voice. His lips twitched with a smile, but he restrained himself. “Yes, thank you.”
“M’lord, I hope ye dinna mind my plain speakin’, but if ye would be marrying agin, would ye nae be wantin’ to hire a staff once more?”
Richard immediately recognized the wisdom in this. “Yes, indeed. You are absolutely correct. I shall send tomorrow for Mr. Samuel to return to us from Merrick Hall and tell him to bring any staff he feels necessary.”
Mrs. MacPherson nodded. “Thank ye, m’lord.“ She turned to go, but then turned back. “I am sorry, m’lord, the reason I coom up was that this was just delivered. A wee lad is awaitin’ below stairs for a reply.”
It was a hastily scrawled note from Mrs. Long, the headmistress of his orphanage. He quickly skimmed over the contents, letting loose a series of expletives that would have burned the ears of any proper lady. Fortunately, his housekeeper did not have such fine sensibilities.
He remembered himself, and apologized to her anyway, adding, “Tell the boy to run back and I will follow as quickly as I can.”
What had happened to all the staff he had hired to take care of the boys? He had gone to no small expense to find a suitable building to house them and then had hired no less than six footmen and maids to care for them. He had interviewed dozens of women to act as headmistress and had finally hired the one he felt would be both firm yet loving. Was the woman so totally ineffectual that she could not control twenty boys with the help of the rest of the staff?
Richard’s annoyance simmered in the pit of his stomach as he tried to find a hackney as quickly as possible.
Richard could hear the screams from the street even before he entered the orphanage. Gritting his teeth, he strode directly to the dining room from where much of the noise seemed to be emanating.
He stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open for a moment. It was complete mayhem. Mrs. Long stood near the door wringing her hands while nearly all of the boys were engaged in fighting each other. A few stood on the sidelines cheering their comrades on. Chairs lay every which way, some broken to pieces. The large dining table was pushed askew and two boys were on top of it pummeling each other. Screams, cries and shouts of the boys filled the air.
“STOP!“ Richard bellowed at the top of his voice.
He was ignored by many, but some of the boys did stop whatever it was they were doing to look toward him. He strode over to the table where the two boys were still fighting, but undermined his commanding entrance by slipping on something slick on the floor. He quickly regained his balance and, avoiding the flailing fists of the upper child, picked him up and removed him from the table. No sooner had he put the child down than the boy moved to return to his fight.
Richard tried to stop him but instead received a swift kick to his shin and a slew of words that made his own ears burn. As he grabbed at his injured leg, the boy raced around him, climbed back on to the table and resumed the pummeling of his opponent.
The rest of the boys, seeing how ineffectual Richard was at stopping this fight, went on with their own. Within minutes the room was as it had been when he first entered it.
Swallowing both his exasperation and his pride, Richard tried again. He separated boys, yelled for quiet and got hit and punched quite a few times. He slipped and fell on his indignity at least twice. One boy turned his frustration on him, pulling at his neckcloth, his hair, and landing a rather good blow to his gut before he was able to finally capture the child’s hands and bring to an end
to the assault.
By the time Richard had finally put a stop to most of the fighting, his naturally merry disposition had dissolved the ill feelings he had harbored when he first walked onto the scene.
He looked around at the now quiet room. Broken crockery littered the floor and it was obvious that there had been a food fight before the boys had let loose on each other. Splotches of mashed potatoes decorated both the walls and not a few of the boys. An overturned pudding dripped from the table onto the floor. Limp spinach leaves hung from a wall sconce—the bowl that once held the vegetable in pieces on the floor. And a chicken carcass, picked clean of all its meat, was skewered onto the center candle of the candelabra in the middle of the table.
The sight of the bedraggled boys and the food strewn room made Richard lose the last of his self-control. Unable to contain himself, he burst out laughing. His heart and his head felt light, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He was filthy and exhausted, but goodness, it felt good to laugh.
The boys all looked at each other in a confused way. Then, almost in unison, they looked back at Richard as if he had completely lost his mind. Mrs. Long, too, looked as if she wondered if he had been hit on the head so hard that he had lost his senses. Richard’s laughter, however, was infectious and a few of the boys stopped crying and began to giggle with him.
When he finally regained control of himself, he forced the smile from his face but the laughter was still in his eyes when he finally spoke. “Mrs. Long, would you be so good as to tell me what started all this?”
The woman came forward a step, unsure of how close she wanted to get to someone who was clearly mentally unbalanced. “Well, milord, I don’t rightly know fer sure. Alls I know is that they was sitting and finishing their dinner when suddenly this fight broke out. All the boys started fightin’ and throwin’ food and that’s when I sent round the note for you to come.”
Richard nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Long. And the footmen and maids who were supposed to be here?
“They left as soon as the food started flyin’, milord.”
“I see.” He then schooled his face and voice to be as serious as he could muster, pulled down his eyebrows and turned to the boys. “Would someone care to tell me what started this fight?”
All the boys began talking at once.
“He took more than his share of dessert,” from one boy.
“No, I didn’t,” came back from the one accused.
“Jack-o said he didn’t want no dessert,” from another.
“Did not,” from a fourth.
The arguing began once more, but when they raised their fists at each other, Richard intervened before all hell broke loose again.
“All right!” he shouted. “I get the point. There will be no dessert served for the next two weeks. You will all clean up this room until it shines. Tomorrow you will fix any chairs that have been broken. And if I ever hear of anything like this happening again you will get more severe punishments. Is that clear?”
There was quiet in the room, except from the maligned Jack-o, who stood crying near the potato-splattered wall. Richard moved over and knelt in front of the child. Pulling him gently on to his lap, he spoke softly to him. “It’s all right, Jack-o. Don’t cry.”
“It’s all my fault,” the boy hicoughed.
“No, no. It is all right. You did not start the fight. This probably would have happened no matter what.”
Richard pressed the boy’s damp head to his shoulder, pointedly not thinking about what part of the meal could possibly be in his hair to make it wet.
Little arms wrapped themselves around his neck and gave a squeeze. Gently, he squeezed back before pulling away a little to give the boy a smile. The child stopped crying and used the back of Richard’s sleeve to wipe his runny nose.
Smothering back the impulse to snatch his arm away from the urchin, Richard stood up and looked about the room once more. “Mrs. Long, you will please take one or two boys with you and bring in any cleaning supplies needed. The rest of you will begin by picking up all of the chairs and putting them off to the side. Take the broken chairs and place them in the hallway.”
With so many hands, it only took them a little over an hour to completely clean the room, remove all the broken dishes and clear off the remainder of the meal from the walls, floor and table. Once everything was back to rights, Richard looked around the room at the twenty exhausted boys. A few sprawled in the remaining chairs, while some leaned against the wall, too tired to hold themselves up any more.
Richard smiled at them and gently cuffed one boy across his head. The boy grinned up at him. “Yer looking rather dapper this evening’, guv. Goin’ out someplace?”
Richard looked down at his clothes. His favorite blue coat and breeches were covered with food, his waistcoat had lost two buttons, his neckcloth was untied, his shirt front had gotten orange spots all over it and he really did not want to think about what was on his sleeve. To add insult to injury, he had somehow lost the ribbon that had held his hair back and his good boots were scratched. It was only then that he remembered exactly where he was supposed to have been.
“Damnation! I completely forgot about Teresa!“
“Teresa? ‘Oos that, guv? Yer gal?”
Richard scowled more at himself than at the boys. “She is going to be my wife and I was supposed to have been proposing to her this evening.“ He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was much too late to call upon her now.
A couple of the boys looked sympathetically at Richard. “She’ll fergive ya, gov, don’t worry. Jus’ bring ‘er some flowers or sweets, gals like that kinda thing.”
“A gee-gaw’ll do the trick, milord, you take my word on it,” one of the older boys suggested.
Richard smiled and nodded. “Yes. I think that is just what I will do. Now off to bed with all of you.”
There was some grumbling at this, but the boys all went trooping upstairs to their respective rooms.
Mrs. Long reappeared a few minutes later after putting away the last of the cleaning things. She looked distinctly nervous and had gone back to wringing her hands. “Oh milord, I don’t know what we would’ve done if you ‘adn’t come,” she said tragically.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Long. Tomorrow you can see about hiring a new staff. One that will not desert you when you need them most.”
“Yes, milord! Oh, thank you, milord.” Mrs. Long curtseyed gratefully.
After a moment’s thought, Richard asked, “What sort of exercise do the boys receive during the day?”
“Exercise, milord? Why, I don’t believe that they git any.”
Richard shook his head. “That, then, is the problem. I believe it is lack of exercise that started this whole thing, Mrs. Long. You should allow them some free time to run and play in the park every day. I will purchase some balls and a cricket bat and have them delivered here. Boys need plenty of running around— something we completely forgot when making up their daily schedule.”
Mrs. Long beamed up at Richard, relief evident in her eyes. “Yes, milord. Plenty of exercise everyday is what they’ll git.”
Richard said goodnight and left to find a hackney to take him home. Goodness, but he was tired! But it was a good sort of tired. In fact, he wasn’t sure why, but he felt quite fulfilled by his evening’s activities.
Perhaps that was just what he needed too, a little exercise and playing with the boys. As he collapsed into his bed after stripping off his ruined clothing, he decided to be sure to join the boys at least once a week during their playtime in the park.
Chapter Seven
It was not well done of you, my lord. What was poor Teresa to think when you did not come yesterday evening?”
Teresa froze, her hand lightly resting on the door knob. Her aunt’s stern voice carried clearly through the partly open door.
“I will repeat my apologies to Miss Seton, Lady Swinborne, but as I told you, it could not be helped.” Richard sounded tired, as i
f this was not the first, or perhaps even second, time he had apologized.
“I should think that a proposal of marriage would take precedence over anything.”
“Lady Swinborne, I have told you, it was an important matter which required my immediate attention.“ The tone of his voice told Teresa that he was beginning to lose his patience.
The floorboard under Teresa creaked as she shifted her weight. They would have heard her. Now she had no choice but to go in to this embarrassing situation.
Taking a deep breath, Teresa entered the room and closed the door firmly behind her so as to give the footman standing in the hallway as little as possible to report to the others below stairs.
“Ah, Teresa. Here is Lord Merrick, finally,” her aunt said, with a pointed look at Richard.
Teresa looked at him and felt her heart stop. This was not the same man she had kissed yesterday. This was not the Richard with whom she had become friends. Here was a lord of the realm, resplendent in his exquisitely tailored bottle-green coat, tight fitting breeches, tastefully embroidered waistcoat, and well-tied cravat. This was the Marquis of Merrick.
She felt herself color as she remembered his kiss and the feel of his hard muscles against her. When she had run her hands under his coat as he had kissed her, she had been able to feel the heat of his body through the thin backing of his waistcoat, almost as if the cloth had not been there. Her fingers tingled as she remembered the sensation.
But now he stood there looking like an Adonis, complete with long, shining blond hair and broad shoulders. His clothes were a bit out-of-date, but that did not diminish his commanding presence. That this gentleman was here to see her, to propose marriage to her, was beyond belief. She fought a strong urge to run and hide.
“I brought some flowers for you, Miss Seton. I hope you like them.” Richard bowed and offered her a beautiful bouquet of tulips.
She accepted the flowers with a little curtsey, but was unable to force an appropriate word from her suddenly constricted throat. She sat down close to her aunt on the white brocade settee.
The Merry Marquis Page 4